


Vodka isn't beer

by faithfully



Series: Soaked Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfully/pseuds/faithfully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes home from a hunt to find his 14-year-old brother very drunk and has to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vodka isn't beer

**Author's Note:**

> Contains underage drinking, wetting and vomiting, but nothing sexual.  
> Sam is 14, Dean is 18

Sam was 14 the first time Dean came home to find him drunk. He tried to hide it, scrambling to shove the bottle of cheap vodka under a pillow the second Dean opened the motel door, but he’d never been very good hiding things from Dean while sober—it was no surprise he was even worse at it while drunk.

Dean shut the door and locked it behind him before turning to glare at Sam. “Night’s a little early to be wasted, don’t you think, Sammy?” he said loudly.

Sam glared back, already flushed skin going a little redder. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean smirked. “I’m talking about the half-empty bottle of booze you just tried to hide under the pillow there.”

Sam stubbornly crossed his arms and said nothing as Dean crossed the distance between them and flopped down beside Sam on the bed. Sam gave an indignant squeak as he nearly fell off the bed.

“This ring any bells?” Dean pulled the bottle from its hiding place and held it up for Sam to see.

“Big deal, you let me have beer all the time.”

“Yeah, beer. I let you have sips of mine because from some twisted reason you actually like the taste of it. This,” Dean shook the bottle gently so the liquid sloshed, “isn’t beer.”

“So?”

“So why are you drunk on a Tuesday night?”

Sam slid off the bed and got unsteadily to his feet, spinning to face Dean. “Why do you care?”

“Why? Because if Dad was here right now he’d kick your ass, that’s why!”

“Well Dad’s not here, is he? He hasn’t been for a week! So I guess you’re gonna have to kick my ass for him, won’t you!”

Dean stood up, walking over to Sam, glad for the moment he still had half a foot of height on the kid. “Is that why you’re getting drunk in here by yourself like some girl who just got dumped? Because Dad’s letting me help with this hunt but not you?”

“I don’t want to have anything to do with the hunt!” Sam shouted.

“Then why, Sam?” Dean shouted back.

Sam seemed to realize he was shouting and took a breath to calm himself. “I don’t care, if Dad leaves. He can leave and never come back for all I care. But you’ve been gone, for days. I didn’t know when you’d be back.”

Dean sighed. He shouldn’t have been surprised. “I told you over the phone, man. We were waiting for the all-clear from the other hunters. They’d been tracking it longer than us, so they knew when it’d be safe to take it out.”

“I just wanted to know you were okay,” Sam hiccupped.

Sam was staring at his feet, looking so little and so lost that it broke Dean’s heart. “Come here,” he said softly, pulling Sam against him in a hug.

Sam slumped against him and hugged him tight, mumbling something into Dean’s chest.

“What was that?” Dean asked.

Sam turned his head to one side so Dean could hear him properly. “I said I love you.”

“I love you too, Sammy.”

“No,” Sam pushed back from him weakly, still clutching Dean’s elbows for support. “I mean I _love_ you, Dean. Okay? You can’t just leave me here not knowing if you’re alive or dead.”

“Okay, Sammy. I’ll call more often next time, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Sam seemed satisfied with Dean’s answer and leaned back against Dean’s chest. Dean hugged him again, relieved that it wasn’t something more serious that had driven Sam to drink.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“I think I…oh. Nevermind.”

Sam took a step back and looked down with a mortified look on his face.

Dean followed his gaze and started laughing. Sam was full-on pissing his pants, a dark stain of tell-tale wetness going down one leg and a puddle beginning to form at his feet. “Oh, baby brother. You are such a lightweight. Come on, that means bedtime.”

Dean led Sam to the bathroom where he stripped him of his soaked jeans and boxers. Dean went out to fetch Sam some clean underwear and when he returned Sam was kneeling over the toilet, puking his guts out.

“You definitely had too much. Don’t drink half the bottle next time and this won’t happen, alright?”

Sam groaned. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, flushing the toilet. “I am never drinking again.”

Dean laughed and wet a washcloth in the sink to rub at Sam’s face. “Brought you some clean boxers. You should down a tall glass of water and sleep it off.”

Sam looked up at him at the mention of water. “You don’t think I’ll wet the bed, do you?”

Dean ruffled Sam’s hair. “You already wet the carpet, I think the damage is done. We’ll leave in the morning, come on.”

Dean wiped the sick off Sam’s face, and then wiped down his legs before helping him into the clean boxers. Sam seemed to feel better after puking, but even after Dean helped him into bed, Dean stayed up watching him, just in case. After all they dealt with on a regular basis it would be pretty stupid for Sam to die of alcohol poisoning. Hours later, when he was sure Sam was still sleeping safely on his side, Dean allowed himself to doze off.

That morning with sunlight peeking through the curtains, Dean was awake by the sound of Sam running full-speed to the bathroom. Dean smiled knowingly as he found some painkillers in his bag for Sam.

Sam exited the bathroom after a few minutes, looking ill but otherwise no worse for the wear. “What happened last night?” he asked when he saw Dean.

“You got drunk, that’s what. Do you remember why?”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. “Because I was mad at you for leaving for so long?”

Dean nodded. “I believe you confessed your love for me. It was quite beautiful.”

Sam looked horrified for a moment, which gave Dean pause, but he quickly covered it up with a grin. “Was it beautiful? Like in the movies? _Were there doves_?”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “You peed yourself, dude. Right before you threw up everything you ate.”

“Oh.” Sam looked guiltily at the spot on the carpet, still wet from last night. “I’d hoped maybe that was some horrible drunken nightmare.”

“Nope!” Dean said cheerfully. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to drink so much next time.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. “Can we leave?”

“Not before you’ve had a shower. I’ll get you something to eat. I’m thinking, a really greasy pork sandwich served up on a bathroom floor mat.”

Sam’s face greened a little at the edges. “I’m going to go puke again, then shower.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed with a wink.


End file.
